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Day 1 - Scene 6
Stupid was what he was; stupid and ungrateful. Enar had looked forward to taking a long soothing shower after the climb up the hill, but of course he couldn't do that. They had no showers here. They didn't even have running water. Rolf's oldest home-son, Eric, had brought in water for him to wash in. He'd even heated it up, but that was a while ago so it would have cooled off a little now. The realization he wouldn't be able to shower for an entire week had come as something of a shock to Enar. He'd know of course, rationally, that they didn't have running water and showers here, but at the same time he hadn't realized he wouldn't be able to shower and now he felt bad. He was disappointed that he couldn't get a shower and he felt stupid for not realizing sooner. He knew he was being ungrateful. His host family had tried their best to make sure he was comfortable and he'd just snubbed their efforts. Enar fervently hoped that Rolf hadn't seen the disappointment on his face. He sat on the bed in the little sleeping chamber and felt miserable. He was a fat, stupid, ungrateful townsperson and he had no business being out here in the anetacht where people were happy and lived in harmony with nature. Tomorrow he'd get a ride back to Irnrad and go home again. They'd all be better off without him. At least at home he could have a shower. His belly rumbled. He stared at it uncomprehending and then yawned big; like a cat waking up from a nap. Maybe he'd feel better after a meal and a good night's sleep. The bed seemed nice enough and Rolf had said something about food. He did need to freshen up though, shower or no shower. His suitcase lay on the floor where the children had left it. It had earned itself some new dents and scratches but overall it didn't look bad. It looked used; as if its owner had brought it along on countless travels to exotic places. It didn't actually, but it's what he imagined and it made him feel a little better about his situation. Enar rumaged through the bag for his towel, stripped off his clothes and, with the towel around his waist, made his way to the washroom. Rolf had shown him the burrow, how to light the oil lamps in each room and then left him to get settled in and freshen up. All things considered it was a nice burrow. It even had a round door, just like in the movies. The door opened up on a little hallway that led on to three rooms; the bedroom on the right and the kitchen on the left. The washroom was all the way in the back, down a few steps and through a short corridor – keeping its distance from the other rooms. The washroom was small and mostly empty. It was functional and a little bit dull; not a place where you would spend more time than you had to – which was probably as it should be. Despite two candles and an oil lamp it felt darker than either of the other rooms. Then again, both of the front rooms had little round windows that let in light from outside while the washroom didn't. He stopped there in the doorway for a while; looking at the basin full of water on its little table. Looking at the grille in the floor where he was to pour the dirty water when he was done with it. Looking at the lid over the hole which he wasn't supposed to use unless he really absolutely had to. There was an outhouse in the garden and Rolf had asked him to please use that as much as possible. For now, he had no need for either hole or outhouse and he firmly shut any such thoughts away. He'd worry about that later. Hesitantly he started splashing water on himself. It wasn't a shower, but the water wasn't all that cold and after scrubbing himself with soap and brush for a while he actually felt both clean and refreshed. Back in the sleeping chamber he dressed quickly. He left his old clothes in a pile on the floor and picked new, fresh ones from his suitcase. He put on jeans and a shirt, tossed a sweater on top of the bed so he could grab it when he left and started pulling on his socks. He hesitated and then stopped completely. Rolf and the kids hadn't worn socks or even shoes. The same went for Hasse and the villagers he'd seen – not to mention all of the local anfylk he'd seen on the train. He should be no different now he was here. Resolutely he tore off the socks and tossed them back into the suitcase. No more footgear for Enar on this trip. Enar's feet weren't nearly as hairy as Rolf's or Hasse's, but at least they weren't as smooth as the children's. Sure, he did trim his legs and feet, but then again, everyone did that back home. Most women even shaved theirs - just like human women. Wearing socks and shoes was really uncomfortable if your feet were too bushy, not to mention it looked a bit weird. He rolled his jeans up to his knees and took a few tentative steps to make sure they didn't roll down again right away. He was feeling strangely good now, if roaring hungry. He reflected on that for a moment. He'd been miserable and wanting to go home just a few minutes ago and now here he was ready to skip out barefoot in an unfamiliar garden to have a meal with people he didn't know and he wasn't even worried. It had been an odd afternoon like that. He usually wasn't very excitable. He was calm and reserved and he never made a spectacle of himself. Today he'd clowned around by the well in Grums. He'd almost snapped at Hasse to shut his blabbering mouth in the hills after Ballyroed and he'd nearly burst into tears when he realized there was no shower in his burrow. It was strange but he wasn't going to waste time dwelling on it. Right now he was going to take advantage of his good mood and go meet his host and have a proper authentic anfylk meal. It was bound to be good, it was Feastday after all. Off he went. --- Continued in Day 1 - Scene 7. Back to Enar's Vacation.